Machu Picchu
by spheeris1
Summary: Rambling AU :: Multiple POVs :: Four people meet in South America and set out to find themselves... :: Spashley, one-time Spangs and very very vague Ashden :: Longest one-shot ever


It is Friday and she is almost out of her seat, the third one to the right – the place where the bar starts to curve and stretch out – and she is almost out of her seat, after two drinks made too strong, and she is almost getting up and walking over to the woman she's been watching for the past hour.

But as her purse, light and fashionable, swings slowly by her hip… well, her feet just stop and stick to the floor.

Because almost is never good enough, not in situations such as these.

And that woman on the other side of this establishment, with her chestnut hair and warm as rum grin, is no longer alone.

And that woman smiles, takes that guy's hand and goes to the center of the room.

And they dance.

Spencer orders another drink and takes it outside.

Almost is never good enough in moments like these.

*

"You are **so** lame."

"No, not lame. Just timid."

"Lame."

"Timid."

"I say tuber, you say tabor."

"You know, I've never understood that comment from you. What does it mean?"

"It's an inside joke. Besides, this isn't about me, Spence… we are talking about you. And your lameness."

"God, just let it go…"

"I'd love to, but I know you won't—"

"Liar. I am done with it. It didn't happen and now I can move on."

"Yea, right. You've been practically stalking this chick since she got here."

"Stalking is a bit strong…"

"She probably won't be here much longer and then what'll you do? Sleep with me again?"

"Heaven forbid…"

"Hey!"

"No offense, just wasn't the, uh, best of ideas…"

"…I've had worse ideas thrust on me."

"…Are you hitting on me?"

"I am being polite, unlike **you**… asshole."

"Wow, okay, chill out."

"I am frosty."

"Look, I'm sorry… I just didn't want to talk about my massive failure to approach any female within a hundred mile radius and have to ponder the reasons why I fail, uh, massively. And I am taking it out on you. Sorry."

"It's okay. And you're right. Sleeping together was a mess. I mean, you are my friend…"

"Right. Same here, you know."

"Yea, I know… Now… back to your lameness…"

"Carmen, I swear to fucking God—"

"Don't let him hear that!"

Carmen laughs and Spencer rolls her eyes and this could have gone on forever and a day.

But they are interrupted, a subtle shadow falling over them as they sit by the rather pathetic-looking pool – all green water and chipped tile and fallen leaves.

It's not summer at all, but here it is still warm – in fact, it is hot.

And it is here that vacations never truly end.

They meander.

"Either of you got a light?"

Carmen smirks a little and Spencer is breathing so erratically that she might pass out and the shadow has a beautiful face – tan and smooth and clear, with upturned lips and dark lenses over the eyes – and Carmen digs around her large canvas bag, producing a neon pink Bic lighter.

The shadow raises a cigarette in between long and tapered fingers, lovely lovely hands…

"You are a lifesaver."

"Hmm, since you are a smoker and I am assisting you in that bad habit… I'd say 'lifesaver' is a bit of a reach."

The shadow laughs and it rings like a damn bell.

Carmen nudges with her knee and Spencer blinks rapidly and the shadow smiles at them both – white teeth in the sunlight, inviting and amused.

"I'm Ashley."

"Carmen. And this silent person is—"

"Spencer. I'm Spencer."

Ashley and Spencer shake hands.

And it isn't anything special, just hands and shaking and an introduction.

It is just what people do when they meet for the first time.

Officially.

"I've seen you at the bar, right?"

"Oh, uh, yea… I saw you there once. Or twice."

"Thought so."

But they've yet to let go of each other's hand and Carmen has to bite down hard on her own tongue to keep from chuckling.

*

Ashley had started off in Rio de Janeiro, where Aiden lost all his money to some con-artist with a really nice body, and then she had to beg a pig farmer to drive them to Sao Paulo – which said pig farmer did – and she felt no guilt in the fact that Aiden had to ride in the back… with the pigs.

Because she didn't lose all her money due to a sweet talking lady with cocoa skin.

And that's because Ashley doesn't have that much money to lose in the first place.

She came here for something more than drunken debauchery – that's Aiden game, with his leather shoes and his boyish charm and his never-ending bank account back in the States.

She has a few bancos in her pocket and some chap-stick.

She left her bag at the airport when a fight broke out at the pick-up area and cops started waving guns.

Aiden nearly pissed himself.

Ashley just grabbed his hand and ran.

Rio reminded her of home and she wanted to leave. It was garish and loud and full of party atmosphere.

Sao Paulo reminds her of the one time she visited her grandparents, houses with fences and screaming children in the distance and the smell of breads made from scratch…

She likes it.

The hotel put them in a cramped room, only slightly bigger than a broom closet.

It took almost all she had.

But they didn't request a sign out date.

And so, Ashley declared this place their base of operations – for Aiden that means drinking and card sharking and women… for Ashley it means… it means…

Well, she isn't sure.

She left L.A., tired of the pointless magazine celebrity and the fashionistas and the vapid discussions about Brangelina. She left L.A. and her alcoholic mother and her dead-beat father behind, eager to find more meaning in this world.

She left it all behind, just a torn out page of National Geographic to guide her.

She sure as hell isn't looking to hook up with anyone either.

That is certainly not a part of the plan at all.

So, Ashley forces her own hand away and affects a tiny grin and takes a deep drag off her cigarette.

"Thanks for the light, Carmen."

"Not a problem."

"Nice to meet you both."

"Likewise… right, Spence?"

"Uh, yes. Very much so."

Ashley nods and walks away and feels that sudden tension spiral out, leaving her deflated like a balloon with a pin stuck in it – and Sao Paulo is now way too cramped for Ashley's liking.

Because she is not here to meet anyone.

She is here to forget everyone and start anew.

"Aiden…"

"Yea?"

"Let's move on."

"I thought this was a place to relax for a while, Ash. I finally got that number from the woman at the desk, you know, the one with the stellar rack…"

"Fine. Stay here. I'll come back for you."

"Hey, wait… what the hell, Ash? You know I can't let you go without me, wouldn't be right—"

"You are a shallow whore, Aiden. I am not. And I **need** to go, okay? I am here to search out something bigger than… than Ms. Stellar Rack, alright?"

"What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing."

"The black haired one or the blonde?"

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon Ash, I've known you for forever and I know when you are drawn to someone."

"Bullshit."

"'Coz when you like someone, instead of being a **normal** human being and talking to them, you snub them. And then you run away."

"…I don't do that."

"Yes you do. All the time. There are burn marks on the highway from how fast you high-tail it from girls."

"Aiden, I am warning you—"

"I call it like I see it. But I'm not letting you take off for… what is it? Macchi Pacman?"

"Machu Picchu, you idiot."

"Right. I won't let you go alone. So, let me go make out with Ms. Stellar Rack for a while and then we can go avoid women together."

"I am not avoiding anyone, you jerk-off!"

But Aiden is up and Ashley is left standing by the bar and she can feel a certain pair of eyes on her back – blue eyes, open and wanting – and Ashley knows she is fooling no one when her feet take her speedily away a girl named Spencer.

*

Carmen is not even sure how this all came about.

It was supposed to be a simple hop, skip and jump to the Keys – maybe get drunk and maybe get a tan and maybe get laid.

And she has done all three, but not in Florida.

And she's not in love with Spencer Carlin, so don't start thinking that.

She loves the girl – loves Spencer's endless innocence and loves when Spencer curses, thus destroying that innocent façade – and they've been holding onto one another for longer than either can count on both hands.

But where Carmen was always content to sit back and see what might happen, Spencer always has to daydream her way into something more active.

They spent two days in Florida and then Spencer suggested a detour – a huge detour.

"Are you crazy?"

That's all Carmen asked, watching as her best friend in the entire world decided to sell her little Honda Accord and a bracelet made of real gold, all so they could ride a bus over the borders of the world.

They stayed one night in Belize and that's when they got trashed the first time, stumbling into a broken-down cot that then shattered to the floor.

They woke up with the bugs and the sweat and Carmen resisted the urge to hit Spencer.

Hard.

They stayed another night in Caracas, shaken and tense after passing too close to Columbia – and its war and its kidnappers – and they talked all night, too edgy to shut their eyes.

Carmen wrapped her arms around Spencer's waist and they kissed and it was weird – but wonderfully them – and they woke up half-dressed and a little shy, but they managed it okay.

They are best friends, after-all.

If they can't forgive and forget a little hanky-panky with each other… well, then that would suck.

But once they reached Sao Paulo, they seemed to stop moving for a while.

And they tanned on the beach. And they ate cheap seafood. And they drank shots every night.

It was nice.

It is, in fact, kind of like a new home or something.

Carmen doesn't miss Virginia and its foggy mornings and its boring backwoods.

She doesn't miss the roads that wind too long or the scent of pine trees all over everything.

She doesn't miss her family, that bratty little sister or her silent father…

…Of course, thinking about it, Carmen realizes that she does miss it.

A lot.

But Spencer is her best friend and the girl is looking for something elusive, that much is apparent.

And Carmen won't let the girl journey alone.

She has to wonder, though, if the elusive thing that Spencer is seeking is just what all people look for – a connection, the kind that kisses you good-night and feather-touches you awake.

It is not the love of a friend that Spencer needs.

It is the kind of love that is attached to long legs and a smoky voice and an abrupt nature – it is, for Spencer, all about Ashley – and that is the kind of love Spencer craves.

The woman showed up five days ago and Carmen has watched, with amusement, as Spencer has drooled.

And stared. And swooned. And gotten embarrassed and nervous and frustrated.

That innocence is cute and a detriment, all at the same time, on a girl like Spencer.

Carmen doesn't worry, though.

Ol' blue eyes doesn't recognize her full power yet, but once she does… this Ashley won't stand a chance.

And as for Carmen?

Well, she's not in love with anyone – not here and not back home – and she isn't looking for it either, just content to sit back.

See what might happen.

Letting life just play out, by this ugly pool and in this foreign place, taking mental pictures of a trip that she'll never forget.

"Let's get wasted, Spence."

"You say that every day."

"Because it is always a good idea."

"Do you think… I mean, did I come off okay… to Ashley?"

"You were fine, peaches."

"Really? She just took off, you know, kinda quick…"

"Don't worry. She's into you."

"How can you tell, hmm?"

"'Coz I am all-knowing and shit."

"Wow, wise one, how very Zen of you… and shit."

They shove each other and walk to the bar and order up.

And they toast to pretty ladies and youthful wisdom.

And they get wasted.

For the hundredth time.

*

Ms. Stellar Rack has lips that taste like candy – you know, the butterscotch kind – and he leaves her with a grin… one he has perfected over the years.

And the ATM is busted at this place, so he walks to a restaurant that is part of a hotel that is way too expensive and this time he doesn't stop to talk to anyone.

Not even the lithe and limber women who grin at him, all teeth and deviousness.

He gets a little more cash and then jogs back to the miniscule room that Ashley is a tornado within – spinning round and round, pent-up energy ready to fly.

And he watches her for just a second, remembering the first day they met – in junior high and she bitched him out over a locker and he kissed her just to shut her up…

…They were fast friends then.

He spent way too long trying to get her into his bed.

And she spent way too long letting him think it was possible.

But he learned over the years that Ashley Davies is a fortress.

There are moats and battlements and walls with intimidating gargoyles on top of them – you cannot get inside of this girl, she won't let you.

He even wondered if she had had sex, but that was a notion dispelled when she came to the last day of their senior year with a black eye.

She said that some 'crazy ass chick punched me because I was caught sneaking out of her girlfriend's office at four in the morning'.

He smirked then and he smirks now. He is a guy and sex is always a good topic – especially if it is sex between two women.

Ashley wasn't fearful of his reaction, though.

And Aiden didn't give a damn back then.

And he doesn't even now, with Ashley eager to run off for the millionth time just because of the attentions of some girl by a pool – a distinctly unappealing pool at that.

Love is love and sex is sex and if you are lucky enough to find either… well, it doesn't matter who it is with. As long as you are happy about it, that's what counts in Aiden's book.

But Ashley is never happy, not really.

She is always on the move and always peeking around the corner, as if something more is out there and she just can't reach it.

Aiden is lazy with such things. He just floats on by and smiles his way out of trouble.

His parents pay for everything and he parties for days on end and if he wants to follow his friend to… wherever it is they are going… then he can and, most often, does.

Last year it was Vancouver.

The year before that it was Greece.

And for Aiden it was all women and wine and song – just like Strauss intended it.

And for Ashley… it was a game of hide-and-seek with something the boy just cannot fully understand.

He's not sure if he will ever understand.

But she is a friend, probably his best friend, and he'd follow her to the moon if she asked him to do so.

Because Aiden is a lot of things – slutty and typical and severely lacking in book-smarts – but he is unendingly loyal.

"Ready, Ash?"

"Took you long enough."

"Hey, I couldn't just stick my tongue down her throat and then say 'see ya'… that would be very impolite of me."

"Because you are such a gentleman, right?"

"I am, whether you believe it or not."

"Fine, whatever. Let's go."

"One more shot to get me through this long day, okay?"

"God, Aiden—"

"No, don't start. We are going, aren't we? We are leaving the comfort of this pill-box we've been sleeping in and heading off to your spiritual whatever and I want one last fucking drink… got it?"

"…Fine. Don't take long."

"And you are coming with me."

"Uh, no I'm not."

"Yes you are. I won't let those girls hurt you."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Yes, dear…"

And they walk to the bar, arm in arm, and Aiden cannot help the grin that spreads over his face when Ashley stiffens beside him.

Because those girls are there and they are so obviously drunk and Aiden wonders if either of them are straight… or available for a moment or two.

"Which one is it that you like again?"

"Aiden—"

"I figure the dark haired one, she seems more lesbian…"

"More lesbian? Do you hear yourself?"

"Or maybe it is the blonde after-all, 'coz she is looking at you like you are her last meal."

"…I hate you, Aiden. I **really** do."

*

Spencer tries to remember the way she used to run up and down the football field in high school, short skirt and ponytail. She was barely dressed and yelling 'go team go!' all those years – and she was never unsure.

Even with lots of eyes on her, inspecting her moves and studying her body… and probably some of those gazes were lust-filled and deviant… and Spencer didn't worry at all.

She was confident on that patch of muddy green, kicking her legs up and shaking her ass.

She knew her own ability to get attention.

But then school ended and the pom-poms got put away and the future loomed heavily on her brow – and Spencer just lost it.

She lost the nerve and the gumption.

She lost the know-how, the knack and the… oh, she just lost it all.

And she wanted to try and get it back.

That's what all of this is about – the selling of her car and the forgoing of Florida and spending nights in shitty rooms and missing showers and too much drinking… Spencer Carlin is trying to find herself again.

Not just in South America.

But in the world…

…where she is no longer certain of how she fits.

Or if she ever did.

See, she wasn't always this gay – as in lesbian, as in homosexually inclined.

She dated boys and brought them home to meet the folks and let said boys grope her in back-seats.

And it was all well and good.

But she knew better, because hidden behind her docile-looking face, lurked another person.

There was Spencer Carlin, daughter of Paula and Arthur, cheerleader and A+ student and the girl you'd want your son to date and then marry.

And then there was Spencer, looking too ardently at other cheerleaders and blushing at Sunday mass because – instead of thinking of God and blood and punishment – she couldn't stop thinking about just how gorgeous Amanda Johnson was on top of that perfectly crafted pyramid at practice.

Not to mention all the hopes and wishes of her parents – who were busy collecting college brochures since she was five, pushing her toward medicine and lab coats and needles – and Spencer let them.

She never told them any different.

She never has. She probably never will.

And that's the problem.

She never says a damn thing.

Sure, she shouted down that megaphone and it felt like power… but it was just a test and Spencer wasn't even aware of how badly she was failing.

She is so gay and only Carmen knows.

She is so into women and she can barely speak to them.

She is so not a doctor and, yet, she is already in her first year at med school.

And that's what all of this is about, some kind of last-ditch effort to shake her soul up and find her damn life and be honest for a change.

She tries to remember running up and down that stupid football field.

And she tries to remember if she ever really enjoyed a thing about her existence.

But Spencer isn't sure about anything… except this shot is burning her throat and she cannot stop laughing and there is that Ashley girl and Spencer wants nothing more than to run her tongue along that woman's thigh all night long…

"I think I'm drunk."

"Yep."

"And I want Ashley."

"Yep."

"Carrrrrmannnn…"

"Spennncerrrrr…"

"Let's just, you know, run away forever and ever… until the end of the world…"

"Sounds impressive. Can we join you on this trip?"

A male voice is by her ear and Spencer grins happily at the guy attached to that voice.

"Sure thing, Mister Boy I don't know."

"Call me Aiden."

"A… den? Like a living room? Carmen, this is Living Room…"

"I'm a kitchen. Woo!"

"Um, no, as in… you know what, never mind. What are you girls drinking?"

"What are **you** drinking, Living Room?"

"Whiskey and beer if you are buying…"

"God, Aiden…"

Another female voice is lingering to the side and Spencer tilts her head – or, you know, her head sort of falls haphazardly to the side… and there is that girl, that Ashley girl, pretty as everything.

And it is so amusing, because Spencer thinks that she might have said that out loud.

"Say thank you, Ash, she complimented you."

"Go to hell, Aiden."

"Hey, we can go there, too! I've never been to hell… have you?"

Carmen is asking a lot of questions and Living Room/Aiden is trying to answer them and Spencer is staring – in an adorably drunk way – at Ashley… who is standing as far away as possible, with arms crossed and a stern look on that pretty face.

"Don't frown, pretty face. Turn that frown upside-down. Upside-down, girl you turn me… inside out…"

Spencer starts it and Carmen joins in and Living Room/Aiden claps out of tune and Ashley rolls her eyes.

But how can anyone stay upset when hearing trashed people sing Diana Ross?

Spencer doesn't have a clue.

Not a single one.

And she likes it every time it happens, the blissful clarity of alcohol consumption – it is just like that megaphone on that dirty field back in Virginia… and Spencer is ready to shout.

"Where are you going, pretty Ashley?" Spencer sort of slur-asks.

"Um… just, you know, around…"

"I'd like to go with you, okay? Is that okay? 'Coz you are so freakin' hot. Just freakin'… sexy hot and I am totally in love with you…"

"She is. Won't stop talking about you." Carmen pipes up.

"Hold on Carmen, that is a big secret… you can't know this, Ashley, my pretty Ashley…"

"Aww, pretty Ashley is blushing a bit—" Aiden snickers.

"Aiden, I'm going to leave you on a mountain somewhere, without your clothes. Remember that."

But Spencer is grabbing Ashley's hand.

And Carmen is sipping her vodka-cranberry whatever and thinking that she needs to call her dad.

And Aiden is wondering what Ms. Stellar Rack is up to right now and if he has time to kiss her again.

And Ashley is frozen with soft skin against her own and it reminds Ashley of a place she hasn't found yet… but has always been looking for… and it freaks her the fuck out.

"Let me follow you, Ashley…" Spencer whispers.

Or she thinks she is whispering, but it is actually quite vocal and carries over the mostly empty bar – because it is not nighttime yet and all the locals are working – the bar is peppered with Americans on an endless vacation during the day.

"…Okay." Ashley whispers back.

And it truly is a whisper, like a spooked child in a dark house.

But Ashley hears it like a tree crashing down in a forest.

*

The first bus gets them to Campo Grande and then they are pulled over, searched and pushed around and there are rifles in the air.

One goes off, by accident, and it causes a panic – some woman faints and Ashley watches mutely as Spencer drops to her knees… not out of fear, but to help… and Ashley can't look away.

She is transfixed by the movement of Spencer's hands, fluttering from forehead to pulse-points and timing heartbeats.

Spencer is a girl that knows things and Ashley is… well, she is reluctantly curious.

When one of the soldiers sees what is going on, he barrels over and keeps pointing to his eye, saying things in a fast form of Spanish that no L.A. class ever taught.

But Spencer just coolly looks the man over, tipping his head back and pulling the eyelid down.

And then there are miming and hand gestures and the bus is loaded again and they are moving once more.

And Ashley has yet to look away.

"What?"

"Are you a doctor or something?"

"In school to be one."

"That's, uh, interesting."

"I guess."

"You helped that lady back there…"

"Anybody would have."

"That's where you are wrong."

"You wouldn't have helped?"

"…I don't know."

And now Spencer cannot look away.

But then she hasn't looked away from Ashley for days on end.

Spencer has let her eyes roam over many a girl, imagined a lot of them in bed and in ecstasy, pictured them underneath her and panting… With Ashley, she has done the same.

Over and over. In the shower and in bed and at that bar.

Ashley is just… well, she is just… really damn pretty.

This, as Spencer hazily recalls, is all she could talk about the night before – drunk off her ass and babbling to her crush about said hotness… It's not the impression she wanted to make.

But it must have worked… somehow.

Because the four of them are together, passing out of Brazil and almost to the edge of Bolivia, going… going to…

"Where are we going again?"

"Macchi Pacman." Aiden says from behind her.

"Machu Picchu." Ashley grounds out.

"Exactly." Aiden agrees happily.

Spencer grins over at Ashley and the girl looks away.

That's another thing that Spencer is fascinated by, Ashley's aloof personality – punctuated frequently by tiny bursts of irritation – and Spencer feels this urge to dive in and figure the girl out.

Literally and figuratively. In every way possible, actually.

Spencer would gladly give up medical school to spend years and years studying this girl named Ashley.

"And you guys don't have to tag along to that… if you don't want to, you know. Do whatever." Ashley murmurs.

Spencer slowly reaches out and runs the tip of her index finger over the top of Ashley's hand.

"I might have been really off the wagon last night, but… I think I said… I'd like to follow you. You know, at least for a while."

The second bus lurches to a halt and Ashley is up, pushing past people down the aisle and Aiden whistles out, grabbing his jacket and Carmen ruffles Spencer's hair…

…and Spencer sighs to herself, looking out into the dusky sky of Santa Cruz, body thrumming with an inch that just won't get scratched.

*

"Let's play a game."

Aiden used to do this all the time in order to diffuse awkward situations and there is a whole mess of awkward hanging around the four of them.

Well, not with him. And it doesn't seem to be with Carmen, who keeps side-sipping her bottle of beer and humming some random tune.

But Ashley is even more silent than usual… and she has broken out the notebook, which is never a good sign.

Means she is broody and angsty and generally no fun – which Aiden hopes to remedy.

At least for tonight.

And Spencer tries to look all nonchalant and stuff, but it isn't working at all – anyone with a brain can tell she is watching Ashley like a hawk.

He almost wants to tell the blonde girl that she has no chance.

But Ashley looks, too… when she thinks no one else is looking – so saying there is absolutely no chance is a bit hasty.

"What kind of game?" Carmen asks.

"We get drunk and then go over there to that field and play… whatever."

"Whatever?"

"Yea, like, freeze tag or red-rover."

"Sounds lame."

"No, see, we'll be drunk and that makes it a lot of fun, trust me."

"Don't trust him. He's stupid." Ashley mumbles and Aiden smirks and Carmen laughs and Spencer… well, Spencer just stares a little at Ashley's bent head and then looks away.

"C'mon, let's do it…"

"Yea, okay, I'm game. But it can't be red-rover, there are only four of us."

"We can get more people involved."

"How?"

"Did I mention the drunk part?"

"You interested, Spence?"

Spencer darts her eyes over to Carmen and they exchange some kind of knowing glare… gaze… something that Aiden cannot translate.

And Ashley is watching this happen while pretending to not watch at all.

And Aiden thinks this is _all_ some kind of game and he should be drinking for it to make sense.

"Sure."

"Great! Ash?"

"…I'd rather not."

"Don't be like this, okay? We are going to the place, aren't we? I just want one game before we head off into the jungles or whatever."

"This conversation sounds familiar…"

"Ashley Davies, put down the notebook and fucking get off your ass and prepare to get schooled in a drunken game of tag."

Ashley rolls her eyes, but does as told.

And they all four proceed to drink until the world looks fuzzy at the edges.

Aiden knows that nothing good will come of this, but that's the whole damn point.

*

Santa Cruz is burning off like the tip of a match-head and Ashley wants to remember that analogy for a song she might write someday real soon.

Their game of tag really dissolved into random chasing of each other and slapping of backsides and falling down a lot.

At some point, Aiden is carrying Spencer around on his shoulder and the girl is laughing so hard that she is snorting.

Ashley is sitting in the mud and she is hard pressed to care at all. She wanders back to her notebook and writes a few lyrics and – in her head – she is already singing it and strumming a guitar.

But that is just a dream.

Carmen is suddenly beside her, dirt-smeared cheeks and a lazy smile.

"What's up over here, girly?"

"Not much, you?"

"Just taking a breath or two. I got tagged."

"Me too."

"We are so out of this round. Fuck it all."

Ashley laughs and looks Carmen over and finds her hand moving quite without her consent, brushing over a lock of disheveled black hair.

Carmen snags her wrist and shakes her head, clearing cobwebs.

"Nope."

"No?"

"Uh huh. You don't want this… I **know** what you want, little rabbit."

"I'm not a rabbit."

"Yea, you like to zig-zag and I am not the one to catch you… got it?"

"Got it."

"She's so good, you know, better than any of us and I won't let some chick just break her. Even a pretty little rabbit like you."

"Knight in armor, hmm?"

"No, just a friend."

Ashley pulls her arm away and walks back out to the field, where Spencer is pushing Aiden's face into the ground and saying something about 'take that back! Whitesnake is awesome!' and Ashley chuckles until her stomach hurts.

And blue eyes match her in happiness and Ashley – once again – can't find the willpower to look away.

"Let's play a game…" Ashley says softly and Spencer seems to slip off of Aiden effortlessly, crawling to Ashley's side and sitting down.

"Okay, let's play one."

"I'm… thinking of a number between one and… a million… now guess it."

And Ashley watches the girl ponder and smile and the wonderful length of her pale neck and the way her blonde hair flutters in the breeze – and her little rabbit heart beats too hard.

"Eleven."

Ashley allows her body to slide to the right and she leans against Spencer's shoulder.

And Spencer is warm and solid and the girl tentatively slides an arm around Ashley's waist.

"…So close…"

"I'll get it next time."

"I don't doubt it."

And Ashley really doesn't doubt it, because she lied anyway.

It was eleven.

*

Peru is like a whole other world entirely, rising up from the ground in lush green waves and jagged rocks, towering over them like Mother Nature's very own giant children.

Carmen likes that thought and thinks that it'll be hard to imagine those Virginia pines in any other way now. They are east coast sentries, waving with the winds – but growing back after every cold snap – and they stand guard over her house… the one with her father and sister… the one with her life on hold.

See, Spencer is the one in school and hating it.

Carmen isn't in college at all and she barely graduated from high school – not because of intelligence, not that at all.

She just isn't focused at all.

She has spent so long just idling along, doodling here and there and toying with careers – a handful of jacks, nothing more – but now… here in this country… Carmen finds herself wanting more.

She isn't sure what that looks like, but she wants it.

"Hey Spence, can you see me teaching kids?"

"You?"

"Yea, me."

"I… don't know. Don't you kind of hate kids?"

"…A little. But, maybe I could teach them how to draw hand-turkeys and things like that..."

"I believe you can do anything you want, Carmen."

"I know you do, that's why I love you."

"Not for my looks?"

"God, no…"

"Jack-ass."

"Who loves you, okay? So watch that pretty mouth."

"Aye aye, captain."

And then Carmen imagines herself at the helm of a ship, ordering people around as they set sail for far off lands.

And teaching sounds like too much responsibility anyway.

But she wants whatever is coming and she can feel it on the horizon… back in Virginia, with that life she is so careless with… Carmen wants whatever lies ahead.

"I thought you were nuts, Spencer, but I am glad I came along."

"Told you so."

"You certainly did."

And they smile at each other, just like the first day they met – in fifth grade and seats got rearranged and Carmen loaned Spencer a number two pencil for some bullshit test – and it is fucking golden.

Just like they are.

And they are hugging wildly on this bus filled with tourists and Buddhists and people seeking something forever out of reach – rumbling up to Machu Picchu's hemlines all fast and furious.

*

Aiden rubs his chin over and over, feeling the unshaven slant of his face, and he likes it.

Not for rugged daydreams, all Marlboro man to some busty lady… but it feels ancient and raw and he wonders just how much he drank to think like this at all.

Because his mind is not wired for philosophical musings and yet it is happening – it started out there in that field, mud all over his bare feet and the sunlight dying… and Aiden found his eyes glued to the descent of the day and he thought about terrifying it must have been thousands of years ago to watch the sun just disappear…

But then Spencer tackled him and he let the thought go again.

"I'd like to keep this once it grows out."

"Yea, I bet that'll go over well back home."

"I could leave L.A."

"Sure, Aiden, I see **that** happening…"

"I do. Someday."

Ashley's look is one of usual disbelief – but then it bleeds out into confusion and she is close to him now, placing a hand on his forehead.

"You drank the water, didn't you?"

"Ash, stop it… I'm fine. Just talking and thinking."

"…Yea. Okay. So… keeping the beard, eh?"

"Why not?"

"It doesn't fit your image."

"Yea, about that… you know, might be time to revise it or something…"

"I thought I was the one out for growth, not you."

"Not enough room in the world for both of us to change?"

"… Are you being serious right now? I mean, are you being for real?"

Aiden looks fully at Ashley and really takes her in – the tiredness in those eyes and the rigid way she holds her spine and all the fight she puts into not being as open as she pretends… all the struggle to not be a part of where she comes from and who she comes from… and Aiden feels like this is the first time he has ever seen her at all.

And thus, it is the first time he has ever seen himself reflected back.

A playboy at such a young age, all flash and cash, fast cars and never a single soul to truly love.

He buys his way into everything and – sometimes – to everyone.

There is no velvet line to keep him out, but he feels the first stirrings of discontentment – low in his gut and in the wiry whiskers on his cheeks and with the Peruvian heat pushing at his flesh through the window…

…and Aiden doesn't like what he sees anymore.

At least, not for today.

So, he leans over and casually kisses Ashley on the lips and leans back again – smiling gently at her stunned appearance.

"Ash, whatever it is you are looking for… it's not here and you know it. It's not in Vancouver or Greece or anywhere else."

"…You aren't saying… it's you… are you?"

Aiden laughs and pulls her into a one-way embrace.

"Fuck no, Ashley. I'm saying it's **you**… if you'll just let it be. It's always been you that you've been searching high and low for."

And like the sensation of shade receding and revealing light, Ashley is holding him in return, pressing the side of her face into his chest.

"Yea. I know." She says quietly and he kisses the top of her head and he looks out the window… and he looks up… and the most beautiful mountain ridge greets him in the distance.

And he wonders how it must have looked to all those people, thousands of years ago… and he suspects there were as awed as he is now.

And suddenly L.A. doesn't seem so great anymore.

*

When they were finally there, like really there – up higher than humans should probably ever be – Ashley found herself at a loss.

Because this was it, right?

This was her fictional sanctuary come to life and it was supposed to wipe away the vestiges of her old life and give her peace of mind.

But with Aiden's words in her ear and the feeling of Spencer by her side last night and the way Carmen's eyes called her out… Ashley isn't sure why she is here at all.

Because she is a rabbit after-all.

She is running and hiding and cutting to the left when life resides to the right.

And her notebook, trusty and silent, carries all her thoughts on such matters – despondent scratches torn from her anger and her sadness… things about her father and his lack of motivation for something better… things about her mother and her gin-soaked rages… things about fear and disappointment…

Oh sure, there is a lyric or two – equally cold and weary – but never… there is never just a simple wish or a hope that it might come true one day.

That was the sacrifice Ashley became willing to make back in L.A. – her chance at happiness for what she had always known – the 'what could be' for the 'what it's always been'.

And so she did that, she gave up – over and over – Ashley let it be and wallowed in it.

And she would travel and trick herself into believing that the next place… the next town… the next city would hold her salvation.

But it never did.

And Machu Picchu is no different.

It is lovely, old and potent and removed from the rest of the universe.

It is green and abundant and it tells so many stories.

It is thunderous with history and Ashley feels absolutely wiped out by it – like she should hit the ground on her knees and beg forgiveness for bringing her petty problems to this place.

"Makes one feel kind of unworthy, doesn't it?"

And there she is, the latest storm that Ashley is fleeing, blue eyes staring out into the vastness around them. And Ashley thinks, shamefully, that Spencer is more gorgeous than anywhere she's ever been – including right now, right here on top of the world.

"Yea, kind of does. Do you… like it?"

"It's… overwhelming. All of this is… you know?"

"…I do know."

Spencer takes Ashley's hand and they are not looking at each other.

The girl's palm is delicate and fine and Ashley has to resist gripping it more fully, though… she no longer knows why she is fighting the urge… she no longer knows why she is fighting a lot of things…

"I like you."

"…You do?"

"I've been painfully obvious about it, actually. And I wondered if, when we part ways… if I could have your number so I could find you."

"…Find me?"

But they are looking at each other now and Spencer is so unbearably wistful – like a painting, like a work of fucking art… and Ashley is gripping that hand, holding it when all those voices… old and twisted voices… tell her to let go and sprint away.

"I think… you've just been waiting to be found, Ashley… and I'm the one to do it. It's me and it'll be me until the end of time."

"That's, uh… really, uh…"

But they are kissing and Ashley can't remember a time where a kiss meant so much and felt so good.

And she isn't fighting now, because her arms are moving and she is wrapping this girl up and she can't seem to get close enough to Spencer.

And Ashley is crying, too.

And Spencer is kissing her tears, is cradling her head, is lavishing attention to every point uncovered – neck and chin and brow and nose and ears and lips again.

"How can you be so sure?" Ashley sobs out and Spencer is caressing her face.

"How can you not be?"

"We don't know each other."

"But we will."

"And what if… what if we just end up hurting each other?"

"Then we forgive each other."

"…Okay. Okay then…"

And Ashley cries some more, allowing Spencer to rock her through it, and Machu Picchu is a watery vision before her… blending of the colors… giving her just enough height to finally see… to finally be.

*

Ashley left her notebook somewhere in Peru.

Aiden didn't shave as they made their way back to Mexico.

Carmen called her dad and told him she was on her way home.

And Spencer found that her voice was louder all on its own, no need for a megaphone.

They hugged good-bye and they talked some shit and they walked in opposite directions.

But Ashley took a pen and wrote her number down on Spencer's palm.

"I'll be waiting."

"It'll be worth it, I promise."

"I know it will be."

And Ashley faced L.A. again. And Aiden told his parents he was moving out.

And Carmen applied for community college.

And Spencer left medical school… then she came out to her parents.

And Spencer called Ashley, every night, even on the night she flew to the west coast and as she walked through the terminal… right up to the moment where they finally see one another.

"Is it worth it?"

"…More than you know, Spencer, more than you know…"

And they kiss at LAX, carving out wishes and hopes with every touch.

And they believe.

*

::END::


End file.
